


Not Quite

by Emerald Embers (emeraldembers)



Category: Legacy of Kain
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-10
Updated: 2010-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-08 20:26:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldembers/pseuds/Emerald%20Embers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moebius, Mortanius, and the rebellion against the vampires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite

Mortanius stood up slowly, assuming perfect posture, before closing his hand around his spear's handle and pulling it out. "You may come in now, Moebius."

The young time streamer walked in, leaning heavily on his staff, and smiled grimly. "It is finished, then, for a time."

Mortanius nodded, gestured to the staff. "You did not try to use this?"

"No. Did he manage to hurt you?"

"No." Mortanius lifted a corner of his robe, keeping it from dipping in the crimson oozing out over the floor. "He stood still."

Moebius paused for a second before sneering awkwardly. "Suicidal then, like the rest of them."

Mortanius gave Moebius a brief warning look before squatting down, closing Samael's blind eyes with one hand as the other plucked the ancient's short sword from its scabbard. He stood up, lashing it to his side, knowing full well he would probably need the cursed object some point in the near future. "Janos is still out there, and Vorador. Shall we see to it that they do not escape?"

Moebius shook his head, looked up at the mural on the wall of the Messiah doomed to fall. "Their times have not yet come. For the moment, I believe rest and shelter sound like good ideas. We cannot linger here. Who knows what devils still hide in the shadows?"

Mortanius bit back the comment that Moebius probably knew, and nodded, looking at blood caking over his boots. "Will the camp be safe tonight?"

"Safe enough for us," Moebius replied before walking over to Mortanius and leaning on the older man, closing his eyes as the death-guardian wove the spell that would transport them both to a shelter where the only blood around seeped into bandages or made its course around mortal bodies uninterrupted.

.

Night fell, and Moebius slept as peacefully as anyone with his powers ever could while Mortanius kept watch. Of course, Mortanius knew full well that Moebius would have warned him if any vampires would attack their section of the hideout that night, but Mortanius had never been one to put his faith in omniscience. Which, of course, had been part of the problem in the first place.

Vampire immortality. Impossibly evil adversaries. God.

All had seemed like fairy-tales to the death-guardian, even when he was a young man of seventeen. And then he had met Moebius for the first time, born with powers no-one living could fathom, though perhaps the previous time guardian would have known. A pity, then, that the vampire in question had committed suicide rather than write what he knew of his abilities down for his successor. Moebius had been more or less alone in figuring out what he could and could not do. As a result, at the age of twelve, he was the oldest-minded creature Mortanius had ever met.

.

Mortanius never seemed to be fully of the earth, as if he always had one foot in the time-stream he dabbled with so easily, though his weak body kept him tied to reality always. Mortanius felt that, in some small way, he helped Moebius keep an attachment to the world by simply always being there, an anchor eager to be used simply because everyone else was - appropriately enough - deathly afraid of him. While Moebius seemed to be in more than one place at all times, Mortanius was only of the earth, and only believed in what he could see and feel in its soils.

Mortanius saw the world, even time, as fabrics to be woven as necessary. Occasionally frays would occur, and it was his power to ensure that the frays were tied off and prevented from spreading. He liked having neatness and organisation in his world, and Moebius' foresight both comforted and disturbed him at once. Moebius had said once that time did follow a neat pattern, but just like any flow of water, you reached a certain point where you could not see beyond the horizon simply because it was too distant and too vague, and would remain so until you got closer to it. The concept both fitted Mortanius' notion of what the world should be like and contradicted it just enough to be unnerving.

.

The death-guardian sighed and rubbed his temples, a headache forming behind them, harsh and painful. He knew full well he ought to be sleeping, but he also knew that if he tried, the nightmares would come. He had killed his master today, his would-be sire, and though he could repress his feelings about the situation when awake, his subconscious would not be so kind.

Samael had seemed a wise teacher, and had not been so harsh in teaching Mortanius about the old prophecies as some of the other guardians had been. He had also been more open about life before the pillars, explaining why they had been chosen over continued war, and of the only recorded incident where Janos Audron questioned his God. But he had been part of the pestilence, in the end. A blood-devouring fiend like the rest of them. That was what Mortanius had to keep reminding himself, if he was not to go mad with guilt and send himself into oblivion.

Still, it would have been so much easier if Samael had turned and fled like any other right-minded creature would have. Survival was supposed to be precious to all animals, no matter how savage.

.

"Mortanius, leave that perch of yours and get some sleep or find a healer," Moebius spoke up as he eased himself out from his blanket and pulled it aside, already knowing what Mortanius would choose. The death-guardian shook his head briefly to clear his thoughts before pulling off his shirt and walking over to Moebius, lying down by the time-streamer's side.

"How do you cope?" He asked quietly as the younger man lifted the blanket back up over the both of them. Moebius laughed.

"That's the trick, dear friend. I don't."

Mortanius mused that answer probably should have disturbed him a lot more as he wrapped his arms around Moebius, resting his own head against a bald, currently smooth-skinned one. It was a familiar position, but one that had always felt slightly awkward. Unsurprising, really, being as between Moebius' omniscience and his own grounding in reality, they both knew that this companionship could not last forever, nor even for the short span of a human life.

Moebius, oddly enough, seemed to make the greater effort to enjoy what they had while it lasted. He seemed to enjoy meaning something more than what his powers and his destiny made him. Mortanius, on the other hand, placed a greater emphasis on the physicalities of the relationship, knowing that his position as a mortal death-guardian would cause his appearance to deteriorate over time to a point where many would be too intimidated by the way he looked to gain any pleasure from him. Feeling Moebius' spidery fingers threading through his hair or tracing their way across his cheekbones was a quiet thrill, and the awkward fitting of the time-streamer's young and spindly limbs against his own never failed to make him want to smile.

.

Moebius jerked back suddenly and covered his face, sneezing violently before shuddering. "You would have thought that between the two of us and our powers, we might have found a way to avoid catching colds," Mortanius laughed before touching a finger to the slight dampness at the side of Moebius' eye that had been forced out by the sneezing fit. In truth, it was the only way anything resembling a tear could ever escape the time-streamer. "Come on, curl up and lets get some sleep." A pause for thought. "We are going to get some sleep tonight, aren't we?"

"Yes," Moebius grumbled, before pressing his head against Mortanius' chest, seeking warmth as he curled the fingers of his left hand around the death-guardian's waist. "You were going to catch this damned thing anyway."

Mortanius smirked, gently massaged the skin at the back of Moebius' neck with one hand, and rested his head against the pillow. Perhaps, just perhaps, the nightmares would stay away tonight.


End file.
